


metamorphosis

by fangirl_squee



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Seasons of Hieron, M/M, spoilers for spring in hieron generally, this is the most niche thing I have ever written
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirl_squee/pseuds/fangirl_squee
Summary: “I know you can hear me, Potter,” says Draco.“I can, I’m ignoring you,” says Harry, careful to keep his pen moving across the page.Harry finds the living recordings of a man from before the Erasure, and carries him with him across Hieron.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	metamorphosis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madelinestarr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madelinestarr/gifts).



> For Madeline, for their birthday - I hope you enjoy this extremely niche content, I love you.

Harry’s life is going quite well, thank you very much. He’s an esteemed wizard and junior Archivist, not a mean feel for a young human to accomplish. His tutors get to be proud of the wizard part, and the Archivist part of things allows him to travel freely through Hieron, to explore the secret and hidden places of the world. He documents it all carefully, keeping one set of notes for the Arcivisits, and one just for himself.

Yes, everything in his life is exactly as it should be.

Except.

Except there are these crystals. He’d found them in a long-disused room of the Last University, in a dust covered box underneath some dust-covered books. They were labelled in such a way that he knew they had to be some kind of remnants left over from the Erasure, and so he’d thought it strange that such a rare and valuable thing had been left to be forgotten in some basement archive.

Now, of course, he found it completely understandable.

“That’s not right.”

Harry flicks his eyes across the room. A flickering crystal light projects out the image of a body, the figure of a man about his own age, a man he has, unfortunately, come to know quite well over the past month. The moment his fingertips had touched the crystals, light in the form of a very confused man had burst forth before flickering away.

It had taken longer to activate them a second time, and by that point he’d figured out that the man was Draco Malfoy, a tutor of some kind at the Last University, the recordings of his lectures sealed away into the crystals until the magic inside them had formed into its own consciousness, a living record of the man as he had been.

“I know you can hear me, Potter,” says Draco.

“I can, I’m ignoring you,” says Harry, careful to keep his pen moving across the page, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know more about pattern magic than you do, if your friend Ronald does it that way there’s more chance that his fingers will fall off than that a door will unlock.”

“Stop reading over my shoulder,” says Harry, “And also, you’re not a pattern magician.”

“How would you know?” says Draco, “I might be.”

Harry pauses. “Are you?”

Draco shifts a little on his feet, wisps of the light projection leaving a faint imprint in the air as he moves. “When the situation calls for it.”

Harry huffs. “So that’s a  _ no _ . I don’t know why I asked.”

“It’s not a no,” splutters Draco, “I can do  _ some _ , it’s not actually that difficult, it’s barely even magic. My father always says that it’s a rather simple form of magic.”

Harry looks up. Draco isn’t looking at him anymore, staring down at the glowing crystals under his feet. This is the part of things that they haven’t talked about, not really, the part about what it means that the crystal lectures were left abandoned in a crumbling building long enough for an inch of dust to form on them. The part where although Draco, admittedly, seems as though he was a respected wizard of his time, that Harry has never heard of him, not even a whisper of a legend.

The Erasure displaced many things and removed many more, and in the face of that one person doesn’t seem like much, but it feels so wrong to Harry that a person, even one as blatantly obnoxious as Draco, could be so utterly forgotten. It's part of why he's kept the projection running. No matter how obnoxious Draco tries his utmost to be, Harry can't bring himself to send the man back into nothing.

Harry's eyes flick back to the old map he was studying, and when he looks back in Draco’s direction, Draco has vanished. 

Harry chews on his bottom lip for a moment, waiting. Sometimes the energy of the crystals lapse, cutting off Draco mid-sentence, and other times… other times Draco will disappear, hiding into the crystal. He seems to mostly do it in order to avoid Harry’s questions, or times when discussions move too close to Draco’s past or his current lack of a physical body.

When that happens, Harry sneaks a book out of the pile that was near the crystal. The first few were just informational texts, interesting in and of themselves, but not necessarily shedding any light on how a version of Draco Malfoy ended up being preserved forever. The next few he looks at are the same, although there is one  _ by _ Draco. It’s well-written but so dense with jargon that Harry’s not entirely sure what the book itself is supposed to be about.

The last book in the pile, the one closest to the crystals, is much plainer than the others. It takes Harry a moment to realise what he’s looking at, squinting at the faded ink on the title page in the candlelight. It’s a journal. It’s  _ Draco’s _ journal.

Harry glances at the crystals. There’s no sign of Draco looking likely to return, but it’s not as though he’ll get much whenever Draco chooses to reappear. Harry looks down at the title page again, the journal heavy in his hands. He takes a deep breath, turning the page carefully.

It’s blank.

He flicks to the next page. It’s blank too, and so is the next, and the next, and the next. Harry huffs a breath, flopping down in his seat and glaring at the journal. Admittedly he’s only known Draco for a few days, but it seems unlike him to have stored a blank journal with his other, more valuable, texts.

Harry turns the journal over in his hands, examining it closely. The fabric cover of the journal is worn, the spine cracked in a way that shows it has been well used. Some of the pages are dog-eared, ragged the way that some of Harry’s own books show their use. He frowns, moving aside his half-finished letter to Ron to put the journal down on the desk in front of him, then he closes his eyes and concentrates, feeling for the magic below the book’s surface.

It doesn’t take him long to feel it. The journal is covered in layers of spells so thickly it almost feels as though they should form a physical layer over it, the different magics twisting together to create a protective layer over Draco’s words.

Harry opens his eyes. With that many spells cloaking it, there was probably some kind of pattern to it, some simple trigger that would cause them to vanish. Without that, it could take months or even years to pick apart each spell and counteract it, avoiding whatever counter-measures Draco had put in place. Harry sighs, sitting back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the journal.

“Still trying to figure out how to open a door Potter?”

Harry jumps. Draco's back in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall and smirking. There's no sign of his previous melancholy.

“I know how to open a door,” mutters Harry.

“Something I’m sure your family’s very proud of,” says Draco.

He steps towards Harry, and Harry feels a flash of panic, quickly pulling the pages of his letter to Ron over the top of the journal. He puts his arm over the pages too, for good measure. Draco’s body itself isn’t quite physical, but he's able to affect the physical world in simple ways, even if he was yet to do magic without exhausting himself into vanishing.

“Did you come back just to bother me?” says Harry.

Draco shruga, a graceful roll of his shoulders. “It’s not as though I have many other options for more stimulating company at present.”

“You will soon,” says Harry, “I’m sure there’ll be plenty of people up to your standards for you to annoy in Velas.”

Draco blinks. “Velas?”

“Yeah, I mean, I have to stop off at the New Archives first to drop off some stuff, but…” Harry trails off. “Did you… I can leave you here if that’s what you want?”

“Why on earth would I want  _ that _ ?”

“I don’t know,” says Harry, “You certainly haven’t had anything good to say about anywhere else.”

Draco makes a face. “The Last University  _ was _ a tremendous place, but now it is little more than a ruin. Velas will be an adequate replacement.” He pauses. “Perhaps there I can finally find some pleasant company.”

“I know what you mean,” says Harry, “The people here are kind of pricks.”

Draco opens his mouth and then shuts it again, glaring at Harry over the desk. Harry turns back to his letter, pressing his lips together to muffle a laugh at Draco’s expression.

Silence falls as Harry finishes his letter, glancing over to where Draco is every so often. Draco is absorbed in one of the text books, or was doing an admirable job of pretending to be. Despite his apparent enjoyment of picking apart everything Harry was doing, there were some times where things could be rather peaceful, the silence taking on a companionable tone, something that Harry was reluctantly grateful for. In Velas, there was always somebody else around. He loved travelling, but the road could often be far too silent to be enjoyable.

Draco continues reading as Harry putters around, packing his things away for the next day’s travels and getting ready for bed. He folds the letter carefully, glancing over at Draco. Draco’s attention is fully on the book in his hands, focused as he manages to manipulate a page enough to turn it. Harry carefully slides the letter and Draco’s journal into his pack, being sure to keep them both carefully separate from the things he's got ready to donate to the New Archives.

His hand hovers over the lamp for a moment. He glances over the Draco, only to find Draco’s eyes already fixed on him.

“I can… did you want me to leave this on?” says Harry, his voice a little rough from disuse. “I can sleep with the light.”

“I- That would be preferable,” says Draco. “I find that I do not need to sleep, in this form.”

Harry nods, turning away to get into his bedroll. He watches the crystal’s light flicker and meld with the lamplight against the wall until sleep takes him, his dreams tinged with the crystal's light.

  
  


\----

  
  


“I can’t believe you don’t even have a  _ horse _ ,” says Draco, for what feels like the hundredth time, “No wagon I can understand a little, since you… travel exceedingly light, but-”

“It’s easier,” says Harry.

And cheaper, is what he doesn’t add. He could  _ probably _ have afforded the horse, and sometimes he did use one if he was going from one certain destination to another, one with an actual road to it. Harry's not quite sure how to explain to Draco that the Last University’s location has become more of a general idea than a place a person could easily travel to. Another reminder of how forgotten it has become.

Draco huffs a breath, folding his arms.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining,” says Harry, “it’s not as though you’re carrying anything.”

“It’s the principle of it,” says Draco, “My family has  _ always _ travelled with  _ style _ .”

“Walking is a style of travel,” says Harry.

“Barely,” says Draco.

“Well, you won’t have to lower yourself to travelling this way for much longer,” says Harry, “the New Archives are only a few day’s walk. I’m sure someone there would be more than happy to take you to Velas on their next trip.”

“And be kept in a box by some orc the entire time? No, thank you,” says Draco, “Even this is preferable.”

“They’re not that bad,” says Harry, “I’m sure not all of them would do that.” He pauses. “At least until they, you know, got to know you. Then it might be kind of a hard sell to convince them to let you stay out.”

“I’ll have you know that I am a very charming individual.”

“Using charm spells on people is not the same as being charming.”

“I would  _ never _ ,” says Draco.

“You have a whole chapter in your book dedicated to it,” says Harry.

“I had no idea that you were such a fan of my work, Potter. Perhaps you’d like me to sign something for you before we get to Velas.”

“Just because I read your book does  _ not _ mean I am any kind of fan of yours,” says Harry.

“And do you always memorise the books that you read?” says Draco, his voice radiating smugness, “Or just the ones that you’re  _ not a fan _ of?”

“I didn’t  _ memorise _ your book!” says Harry, “I just remembered part of it! That’s not the same!”

“Isn’t it?” says Draco.

Harry huffs a breath, speeding up his footsteps, glad that the path narrows enough to avoid conversation. He can still feel Draco behind him, following him as they travel up the mountain, towards the New Archives.

It's late by the time they make camp, the sun almost fully set as Harry gets a fire going. He sighs, tipping his head back against the tree behind him, his muscles unwinding from the long day of travel. He can feel Draco settle in beside him, feeling the air move around Draco rather than Draco himself, the sensation of it closer to a breeze than a person.

His eyes slide to Draco’s semi-translucent profile. The firelight hid some of the transparency of Draco’s crystal-light form, bringing out the faint shades of what must have been the real colours of Draco’s physical form - his deep green cloak, pale hair, and his blue eyes, glittering in the firelight.

Draco’s head tilts towards him and Harry quickly looks back up towards the tree above them, feeling his face flush a little. Draco takes a deep breath in, then lets it out slowly, drawing Harry’s attention back to him.

Draco meets his gaze then looks away, into the fire. “I was just thinking of these New Archives.” He pauses. “I’m not sure how to picture such a thing.”

“Pattern magic was around pre-Erasure,” says Harry, “I’m sure there was  _ something _ like it, even if you chose to ignore it.”

“I suppose they’ve always had their little collections but nothing like…” Draco waves a hand. “There was no specific place for it, and certainly none so large as the place you have described. I can hardly believe there would  _ be _ such a place.”

“Well, you’ll see for yourself,” says Harry.

“And they really just let you walk in there?”

“Yeah? I mean, part of the reason I even went looking for the Last University was as a job for them,” says Harry.

“Oh, yes,” scoffs Draco, “rubbish for  _ the pattern _ .”

“It’s not  _ rubbish _ ,” says Harry, “It’s… okay, sometimes it’s kind of more complicated than it’s worth, but it does  _ work _ , and it’s not like it’s any less reliable than wizard magic.”

“Maybe for  _ you _ ,” says Draco, “For those of us adept at magic, there is no need to trifle with the lower forms of it.”

Irritation begins to rise in Harry’s throat and he tries to tamp down on it. Getting angry at Draco, he’s found, only serves to make Draco more smug than usual.

“It’s not a lower form,” says Harry, “It’s just a  _ different form _ . If you don’t understand  _ that _ , then maybe you’re not as skilled at magic as you think you are.”

“How can it  _ not _ be a lower form?” says Draco, “You can barely do anything with pattern magic but trifles.”

There’s something in his tone, a change to something more stilted, the tone of it controlled.. That particular intonation, Harry has come to believe, means that Draco was quoting something that he’d heard, and usually the source of the quote was the same every time. Harry felt his irritation fade into something closer to amusement.

“It’s… is  _ that _ what you’ve seen it used for?”

“I- that is how I’ve heard that it is used,” says Draco.

“Let me guess,” says Harry, “that’s what your father told you it was used for.”

Draco freezes. “Where I heard it is none of your concern. It was widely known at the University.”

“I doubt it,” says Harry, “Some of my old tutors were at the Last University and they studied Pattern Magic like anything else.”

Draco huffs a breath. “I will not sit here and listen to this… this…  _ garbage _ .”

“Then go,” says Harry, “It’s a big mountain.”

Draco huffs, turning and walking into the trees. Harry watches him go, not feeling too concerned. Draco was still tied to the crystals, and his incorporeal nature meant that any wildlife (or bandits) that attacked him wouldn’t do anything more than frighten him.

His attention drifts towards his pack. He’d been wanting to see if he could crack the journal a little more on his way to the Archives, but Draco had been a more constant companion than usual as they traveled. Harry’s eyes slid back to the forest - everything was quiet and still, no sign of danger or of Draco. This might be the only chance he had to look it over before he got to Velas.

Glancing over his shoulder again at the forest, Harry carefully pulled the journal from his pack. Inside, it was still as frustratingly blank as before, the only ink visible on the title page was Draco’s name, and what Harry assumed was his family crest. Harry squinted at the crest in the firelight, reading the words emblazoned on the crest.

“Sanctimonia Vincet Semper,” reads Harry, wrinkling his nose, “ _ Purity will always conquer _ . Of course that would be it-”

The book shivers in his hands, a sensation so odd that he very nearly drops it, his eyes widening as ink begins to curl across the page, a swirling, intricately-patterned border. He quickly turns the page, his breath catching in his throat as line after line of curling, cramped ink appeared along the page.

_ A new year and a new journal. The students are as adept as ever, and thankfully more serious than those I was forced to attend to last year. Hopefully this means I will not be forced to endure so many interruptions and I can actually get on with  _ _ teaching _ _ them something instead of spending the entire period answering useless questions _ .

Harry flicks a few pages in, smiling to himself at the steady stream of words, his eyes catching on a few paragraphs.

_ Father and mother were, of course, pleased that my position has been elevated, even if this means I will not be able to see them as often as I once did. Mother has sent word that she will try to visit soon, although father has much to attend to, and is unlikely to be able to get away for so long a journey. Perfectly understandable, of course. One must prioritise. _

_ Luckily, the students upcoming holiday break means that there will finally be some peace and quiet around the campus so I will be able to get some real work done. Some of the other tutors expressed plans to leave as well, which seems foolish to me. What do they accomplish by going to Rosemerrow for the fortnight other than to waste money on trinkets? _

_ Strange that I find my thoughts drifting even though there is nothing here at present to distract me. I almost find myself wishing for Crabbe and Goyle’s return, although I am unlikely to see them before the beginning of the new semester. I suppose they are enjoying the time with their family, as they speak of them often. _

The next few lines had been crossed out. Harry peered at them closely in the firelight, his smile fading as he read on.

_ Mother sent a short letter today with her regards but I am yet to hear anything back from father. There is no cause for concern, but it seems he has as little to say to me when we are apart than when we are together. I wish _

Harry set the book in his lap, frowning down at the words. Draco often spoke of his father in quotes, painting a picture of a man even more severe and stifled than Draco was, who’s presence loomed large in Draco’s life. Harry had assumed the man had been at the Last University too.

He looks down at the lines of crossed out words. It seemed like it had been a long time since Draco had seen him in person, even before the Erasure. Harry was struck by the sudden, sharp image of Draco, alone at the Last University, wandering through the empty corridors until his classes began again. It was something Harry could understand, if only a little. Velas was sparsely populated enough that the city could almost feel empty in certain quarters, especially when their classes would break for the year, Ron returning to Rosemerrow and Hermionie spending more time with her family on the coast.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t hear Draco’s approaching footsteps until Draco is right behind him.

“What have you-” Draco broke off, his voice cracking slightly. “That’s mine, how did you-”

Harry stands, the book dropping to the ground. It falls open, the cramped lines of ink stark against the page.

“How did you… this was spelled,” says Draco, “Or, it was, it should have been-”

“I didn’t mean to,” says Harry, “I just translated the crest, I didn’t think it would  _ do _ anything-”

“So you did know it was mine then?” says Draco, “And yet, I do not remember you telling me that this was something of mine you’d found.”

“I didn’t know I’d found it until a couple of days ago.”

“So you had a  _ couple of days _ to tell me and didn’t,” snaps Draco, “Having too much fun invading my privacy?”

“I wasn’t!” says Harry, “I just- I was curious, you never talk about yourself-”

“I believe you have often criticised me during the short time we have known each other for only talking about myself-”

“But you don’t actually  _ say _ anything,” says Harry, “Any time you get close you disappear-”

“Perhaps you’re just not a very good conversationalist,” says Draco, turning away.

He steps towards the pouch where the crystals were kept. Harry reaches out, wrapping his fingers around Draco’s wrist, his movements ahead of his mind. He’s more than a little surprised to find his fingers make a connection with something, cold and overly-smooth, like touching a piece of ice. Harry stares, frozen, at where his skin meets Draco’s - he hadn’t thought it would be possible to touch Draco at all.

Draco’s eyes widen as he looks down at his wrist and then back up at Harry, half-turning towards him. “How are you doing that?”

Harry wets his lips, trying to ignore how fast his heart is beating. “I don’t know” He swallows. “I- We’re never going to get anywhere if you just disappear every time you don’t like what I have to say.”

“Nor will we get anywhere if he read my private documents,” says Draco coldly.

Harry lets out a breath. “I… I’m sorry.”

He lets go of Draco’s wrist, bending to pick up the journal and dusting it off. He holds it out to Draco, a little awkwardly since Draco hasn’t yet stepped back from their close position. Draco takes it, giving Harry a curious look.

“I don’t know that I forgive you,” says Draco.

“I’m not asking you to,” says Harry, “Just… trust me enough to tell me something once in a while.”

Draco is silent, looking down at his journal for a long moment. Harry steps back, toes curling in his boots as he tries to force himself to turn away.

“Very well,” says Draco.

Harry’s attention snaps back to Draco. “What?”

Draco meet his gaze. “What is it that you want to know?”

Harry shrugs, keeping his voice carefully neutral. “I don’t know yet.”

After a moment, Draco huffs a laugh. “You are a strange one Potter.”

Harry smiles. “It’s been said, yeah.”

He sits down in his earlier spot and, after a pause, Draco sits beside him, both of them facing towards the fire.

“Can you feel the heat?” says Harry.

“That’s your first question?”

“Yeah,” says Harry, “Are you going to answer it?”

Draco huffs a breath, the tone of it warmer than his usual. “I suppose I must after all your fussing. I…” He frowns, holding a hand out towards the flames. “Sort of. It’s more like… like my mind knows that it  _ should _ feel hot, and it’s trying to recreate it.”

“I wouldn’t try too hard,” says Harry, “I don’t know how to heal a being made of light.”

“You wouldn’t try pattern magic?”

“I guess I could-”

Harry breaks off at the sight of Draco’s smirk, although he finds that the sight isn’t as annoying as it once was. He still rolls his eyes, leaning forward to stoke the fire.

“So,” says Harry after a moment, “What will you do after we get to Velas? You haven’t really said.”

Draco shifts slightly, looking towards to the trees. “I haven’t considered all my options. You… mentioned that you had tutors? Perhaps I could do something like that. I’m sure there are people who could benefit from my knowledge.”

“You’d just stay in Velas?”

“I suppose, from what you’ve said it seems as though that might be one of the last places left that I might find an adequate place for myself.”

“You could could always travel for a bit,” says Harry, “see what Hieron looks like now.”

“Is that what you do?” says Draco, “Just travel around and see the sights?”

“Sort of,” says Harry, “I do some work for the New Archives, I gather information about Hieron to bring back to Velas. The Erasure… I mean, it happened when I was just a baby but it… it took a lot. So many of the records people have from before are unusable, Hieron’s so different now, and Velas doesn’t have many people it can spare so…”

“And it can spare you?” says Draco.

Harry looks at Draco and then quickly looks away, not wanting to meet his eyes. “I managed to talk them into it. My parents… they did a lot for people, during the Erasure and I guess people feel like they didn’t get a chance to repay them.”

His throat aches sharply, and he swallows around it. The silence stretches between them, and Harry can feel Draco’s eyes on him. He clears his throat, trying to keep his voice light.

“Anyway. I’m sure people could benefit from your pre-Erasure knowledge wherever you go,” says Harry.

Draco hums. “Perhaps. I still have time to think over the options before we reach Velas.” He pauses. “There is also the problem of. Well.” Draco gestures to himself. “I would need some kind of physical form.”

“I don’t think that’ll be so much of an issue,” says Harry, “We could probably work out some way for you to carry the crystals yourself, or maybe we could put the crystals into something, use that as your body.”

“I have no intention of someone turning me into a walking tea kettle,” says Draco, indignantly.

“No, I mean-” Harry struggles for a way to explain it that won’t seem so alien to Draco. “There are other kinds of bodies now. Especially at the New Archives, I’m sure they could find a way to put something together for you.”

Draco makes a derisive sound. “Perhaps. This form suits me just fine.”

“It does,” says Harry, “But maybe they could find one that you could do magic in.”

He turns his head, catching sight of Draco as he flickers out of existence. Harry sighs.

“You’ll have to talk about it someday,” says Harry to the crystals.

The crystals, perhaps predictably, don’t answer, only glowing with their faint light.

  
  


\----

  
  


Draco’s there when he awakes the next morning, complaining about Harry’s late start despite the fact that the sun is barely over the horizon. He seems distracted, half-heartedly insulting Harry as they begin their walk before he lapses into silence. Harry waits, thinking very carefully about the names of every tree and bush they pass to prevent himself from speaking first.

“So these New Archives,” says Draco finally, “You say that they have other kinds of bodies?”

Harry lets out the breath he felt as if he had been holding since the night before. “Yeah, they found a few empty paladin a few years ago-” He breaks off at Draco’s confused look. “They’re, uh, big stone people? Normally they come out with a conscious mind, or develop one, but they had a few that weren’t fully done when I was last there.”

“Even  _ if _ that was something that I’d consider,” says Draco, “Surely they would want something in return.”

“Probably,” says Harry, “Some of the stuff I found at the Last University is for them, so at least whoever we talk to should be in a good mood, and I know a couple of the Archivists pretty well, so we can probably get a good deal.”

Draco does not seem as pleased by the idea as Harry would have thought.

“What kind of… payment would it be?”

Harry shrugs, as well as he can with the heavy pack on his shoulders. “It’s hard to tell. Generally they want very specific stuff, or for you to do a pattern for them, something like that.”

Draco snorts. “Of course. A  _ pattern _ .”

“Please try to keep your scorn to a minimum while we’re there,” says Harry, “I’d rather not get blacklisted.”

“I will be perfectly civil,” says Draco. He pauses. “So long, of course, that they’re civil to me.”

“Well you have a whole day to practise,” says Harry, “We won’t get there until at least tomorrow.”

Draco sighs. “This is why you should get a better mode of transportation.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to be able to take your time through a place,” says Harry.

“Of course,” says Draco, “but more than two days is a little excessive.”

They continue that way as they walk, verbally poking at each other. There’s something else under the surface though, something Harry can’t quite place. Draco lacks the cool tone he’d had when they’d first met one another, perhaps. It might have been entirely in his imagination, but the irritation that had scratched at his throat missing was from the day’s conversation, making the hours pass quickly.

Harry starts their fire that night with pattern magic, going through the admittedly slower process of positioning the sticks and kindling into the right configuration, doing his best to ignore Draco rolling his eyes.

“Must you?” says Draco.

“Yes,” says Harry.

Draco laughs, startling Harry into misplacing the last stick and knocking over another. The laugh was a soft sound, and Harry probably would have mistaken it for the cough Draco tried to disguise it as if he hadn’t been paying so close attention. He shakes himself, nudging things back into position before finishing the pattern.

His mind keeps going back to it, as he stokes the fire to encourage it to grow. It’s the first time he’s heard Draco laugh.

Draco settles next to him, as he had the night before, only this time Harry found it hard to look at him for too long, remembering the way his face had softened before. Draco leant back, his cool fingertips barely brushing Harry’s where they were resting behind him. Harry shot up.

Draco raises his eyebrows. “What’s gotten into you Potter?”

“Nothing,” says Harry, hoping the firelight disguised the flush on his cheeks, “I’m just- I’m going to turn in. Big day tomorrow.”

Draco doesn’t look convinced, and Harry quickly turns away, his heart beating wildly as he secures their things for the night and climbs into his bedroll, keeping his back to Draco.

“Goodnight Potter.”

“Goodnight Malfoy,” says Harry.

He watches the shadows of the firelight dance on the trees as the fire slowly burnt down to the embers.

  
  


\----

  
  


The last part of their journey to the New Archives is always the shortest. Harry usually plans it this way, since navigating the bureaucracy within it always takes at least double the amount of time it seems like it should. That time was on top of how long it could take to even physically get to the part of the New Archives he needed to, since the place where he would need to drop off the things he’d collected from the Last University, the place he’d collect whatever payment was on offer, and the place he’d see if there were any new items they were looking for were all in opposite directions.

“That seems dreadfully inefficient,” says Draco.

“Not for the Archivists,” says Harry, “Now will you  _ please _ not say anything that could get us kicked out?”

“I am shocked that you think I would even be capable of such a thing,” says Draco.

To Harry’s great relief, the Archivist he’s delivering the objects from the Last University to turns out to be Luna. She breaks into a slow smile as she catches sight of him, blinking in surprise as Draco comes into view.

“Hello Harry,” says Luna, “You know, you have a glowing man following you.”

“I uh. Yeah, I know,” says Harry, “This is Draco Malfoy, he’s- it’s kind of a long story. He’s from the Last University.”

Luna peers at Draco for a long moment before she looks back at Harry. “Well as long as you know him, I suppose that’s all right. You can never be too careful with these things.”

Harry hums, already pulling out the various items he’d been sent to collect. Luna ticks them off carefully.

“Five river stones plucked from cold water, a pavestone from a barren place, a broken tapestry, three chestnut halves, and- what’s this one for?” Luna holds up a feather.

“Proof of flight,” says Harry, “I’m not sure if it’s what they had in mind, but…”

“No, I think that’ll work just fine,” says Luna.

Behind him, Draco makes a strangled noise. Luna looks around Harry.

“Are you alright there Draco?”

“Fine,” says Draco, “Just… observing pattern magic in action.”

Harry shoot him a warning look.

“Oh, this isn’t really in action,” says Luna, handing Harry the sheafs of paper to sign off on. “You should go see Neville if you want to see it at work before you leave. He’s working on his final thesis, it’s coming together in a very interesting way.”

“What’s he doing again?” says Harry, quickly signing through the pages, “It was something with those new Spring plants they found, right?”

Luna nods. “Yes, he’s combining it with one of the paladin bodies. It’s really quite interesting.”

Harry pauses, looking up at her. “They let him have access to those?”

“Just the one I think,” says Luna. She tilts her head to the side. “Why?”

“Nothing,” says Harry, quickly pushing the pages back towards her. “Just curious.”

Luna signs one of the pages, stamping it with an enormous seal. “All done. This gets taken to the usual place for reimbursement.” She pauses. “Neville’s office is in the same place too, if you were still curious.”

Harry smiles at her, and Luna smiles back.

“Thanks,” says Harry.

“It’s no problem,” says Luna, “I hope you and your friend have a pleasant stay.”

“What was that all about?” says Draco, as soon as they were around the corner.

“Come on,” says Harry.

He takes Draco’s arm, tugging him forward. Draco shakes his arm out of Harry’s grip.

“Not until you properly explain yourself,” says Draco, “You can’t really expect me to let you drag me all over this place on some kind of wild goose chase-”

“Neville can give you a body,” says Harry, “You heard her, he’s got one.”

“I heard her say he has access to a paladin,” says Draco, “I have no desire to be made out of stone.”

“We should at least take a look,” says Harry, “If he’s combining it with the Spring, it could be… well, it’ll probably be different, right?”

It  _ is _ different. The empty paladin body lies on the table in the middle of Neville’s cramped office space, vines curling around it, making it’s limbs look delicate, more alive than the stone it’s made out of. Harry can just make out the vague outline of the features of it’s face, petal eyelashes resting against stone cheeks.

He tears his eyes away from it, looking back over to Neville. “This is… uh… It’s really interesting.”

Neville smiles. “It is, isn’t it? The Spring is certainly reacting to it in some way, although it’s been pretty dormant since I attached it to the paladin.”

“Perhaps you need some kind of energy source,” says Draco. “From what Potter’s told me, they’re empty stone.”

Neville hums, looking curiously at Draco. “I had considered it. I was thinking about lightning, but that’s a matter of waiting until the right weather conditions.”

“What about a burst of some kind of magic,” says Draco, stepping closer to the table and peering down at the paladin, “Do you think that energy would have any kind of effect?”

“Maybe,” says Neville, “I haven’t really done enough testing of it to know. The Spring can react in very odd ways, so it’s best to move carefully.” He looks back to Harry. “Why the sudden curiosity about my thesis?”

“I’m in the market,” says Draco.

“For a paladin?” says Neville.

“For a physical body,” says Draco, “What would this one cost?”

“It’s not for sale,” says Neville, “It’s my thesis project.”

“But just think of it,” says Draco, “this could be the solution to your problem, the proof for your theory.”

“Draco…” says Harry warningly.

Neville seems more curious than concerned. “What kind of magic would you propose adding to it?”

Draco holds up the small pouch that contained the crystals. He tips one into his palm. Even from this distance, Harry can see his hand tremble with the effort of keeping contact with the physical stone.

Neville steps forwards. “Oh,  _ wow _ , can I-”

“Of course,” says Draco.

Instead of stepping towards Neville, he leans over the table. Harry catches the glint of something in Draco’s eyes and steps forwards, too late to stop the crystal slipping through Draco’s fingers and landing on the twisting vines of the Spring.

“Oh, how clumsy of-”

Draco’s voice cuts out as he vanishes, the remaining crystals tipping out of the pouch and landing on the paladin, quickly enveloped by the Spring.

Neville steps backwards. “Oh my god. Harry, I didn’t- I had no idea it would do that, you haven’t to believe me…

“I should probably apologise to you,” says Harry, “I’m not sure that was entirely an accident on his part. I’m sure we can get him out of there.”

“I uh. I don’t know if that will be that easy,” says Neville, “Look-”

Harry turns, gasping at the sight in front of him. The Spring vines around the paladin body were writhing, twisting themselves around the stone within. Slowly, a body began to take shape, shifting into someone Harry had come to know very well. The vines stilled, the new body of Draco Malfoy resting peacefully on the table,a little greener than Harry had seen him but unmistakably him.

Harry approaches the table carefully. He bites his lip, slowly reaching out a hand to touch Draco’s chest. The vines warmed under his touch. There was no heartbeat, but there was something, the pulse of energy, deep inside. The pulse of a deep magic.

“Harry?” says Draco. “How do I look?”

His voice sounds the same as it always had. Harry throat aches sharply.

“Beautiful.” He answers without thinking, barely caring that his voice cracked on the word.

Small pale blue flowers bloom across Draco’s chest. He reaches up, his movements a little clumsy, and coveres Harry’s hand with his. Harry felt his cheeks flush.

“I didn’t think you believed in pattern magic,” says Harry.

“I can be convinced to,” says Draco, “When the situation calls for it.”

“You’ve ruined Neville’s thesis,” says Harry, “And this will absolutely be something we have to pay back the New Archives for.”

“With all due apologies to Longbottom, I’m quite certain I can pay the Archives back,” says Draco.

“Is that right?”

“Yes,” says Draco, “In fact I know someone who deals with them quite regularly. I’m sure he could be convinced to assist me in gathering whatever payment they need.”

“He might be,” says Harry, “Although it might take quite a while. You wouldn’t be able to go to Velas after all.”

“That’s perfectly all right,” says Draco, “I think he’s where I’m supposed to be.”

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi: mariusperkins on most places
> 
> also, if you thought this world seemed interesting and you don't listen to Friends at the Table, you should do that - [friendsatthetable.net](http://friendsatthetable.net/)


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